


the lovers

by villagepsychic



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Firsts, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Weddings, day 6 of sylvix week!, side dimi/ashe/due bc i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 12:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villagepsychic/pseuds/villagepsychic
Summary: “Maybe to you,” Felix says. “You have no shame, so I’m not surprised.”Sylvain lifts a plate up and hands one to him, laughing. “You’re right. He could’ve talked about that one time we wanted to experiment—this was over the summer before your junior year, remember?—and we ended up having to use your—”“Shut the fuck up, Sylvain!” Felix hisses, lifting up the ladle for their soup as a threat, and Sylvain lifts his hands in surrender.(Or, Felix and Sylvain have had their share of firsts, and Felix can't say he's disappointed in the one Dimitri chose to talk about at their wedding.)





	the lovers

**Author's Note:**

> [♡](https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/lovers/) the lovers card in major arcana, when upright, represents meaningful & raw relationships. it also brings up the topic of _self-discovery_ and choices pertaining to who you are & who you choose to let into your life, romantically or platonically. when the lovers is pulled, one might feel encouraged to embrace another half, to intertwine with them.

Here’s a small fragment of a memory that stands out no matter what Felix tries to do about it: the first time Felix kisses Sylvain, he’s eighteen years old and high off of the taste of victory on his tongue.

His opponent is a mischievous, nimble boy he dimly remembers is named _ Claude_, but he doesn't care to pay attention to that. Their blades clang off of each other in a flurry of well-timed dances, the sweat on Felix’s face drenching him. He’s aware of how his legs are tiring, and how many matches he’s pushed himself through and won to get here today—but it only serves to make him more determined. Claude steps away quickly when Felix finds a chink in his armor in the form of a poorly guarded chest, and he grits his teeth. Darts back when Claude goes on the offensive seemingly out of nowhere. Puts enough force against the deflect of Claude’s épée that Claude has to spend precious time righting himself and thrusts upward, stopping just as the tip of his blade presses against Claude’s throat.

“Do you yield?” Felix asks.

“Fuck,” Claude mutters under his breath, and then—“I yield,” he says, sounding more than a little defeated, and the audience claps. 

Felix can’t help but grin as he extends a hand to Claude and shakes it. “You did well,” he says politely, and Claude rolls his eyes, taking his head gear off and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Clearly not good enough to win,” he points out, and then gives him a tired yet charming smile. “You did amazing, though. I’m sure you’ll be winning tonight. Good job!”

There’s still the judges, of course, but Felix can’t find it in him to care as he half jogs, half speedwalks off the mat and back to his team, who all cheer for him. “Felix, you did amazing!” Annette exclaims, practically vibrating as Dedue hands him a bottle of water. “I’m sure you’ll win!”

“He won the first round, remember?” Felix points out dryly.

Ingrid bumps her shoulder into his with an easy smile. Strands of hair escape her ponytail and her eyes shine in the fluorescent lighting of the building they’re in. She’s already finished her matches, having lost in the quarterfinals to Hilda. “Yeah, sure, but it took _ so _ long for him to win, Felix. This match was pretty quick, in all honesty.”

Felix calls them all his team, but in reality, it’s just him, Ingrid, Dimitri, Dedue and Sylvain who fence. Ashe does archery but comes along to as many competitions as he can because he likes being moral support, and Annette shies away from general over exertion, but she figure skates. Mercedes _ used _ to fence but had to discontinue after a leg injury, so she comes along to support them and offer tips when possible. But Felix by far has the most passion for fencing—and he really isn’t saying that out of pride, or anything. It’s just the truth.

“Plus, the way you cornered him was so cool!” Ashe adds on with a grin. “You looked so fierce. I thought Dimitri would faint any second.”

Next to him, Dimitri goes comically red. “I—I did _ not_—”

“I’m afraid you almost did,” Dedue says calmly, and Dimitri grimaces.

Felix chuckles and takes a swing of his water, glancing back at the judges for a moment. They have their heads together and it sends a rush of irritating anxiety through him. “Where are Mercedes and Sylvain?” He asks, partly to take his mind off of it and partly because he’s genuinely curious, and _ not _ because Sylvain wasn’t there to see him win his round. That’s definitely not it. He scowls to himself and shoves that train of thought out of his head.

“Right here!” A soft, cheerful voice replies off to the side, and Mercedes and Sylvain come into view. Sylvain’s still wearing his fencing gear despite already being finished, helmet tucked dutifully under his arm, and Mercedes has her backpack hanging off a shoulder. When Felix raises an eyebrow at Sylvain, the older boy winks.

“Mercie and I needed a _ break _,” he explains with a grin. “We had some alone time. Really helped boost my spirits, y’know?”

“Oh, god,”Dimitri sighs. Ingrid fake retches and Felix scowls at him while Mercedes shoots him a disapproving look. 

“Don’t be like that, Sylvain,” she says, before turning back to them. “I know the ride home will be tedious for all of us, so I decided to go to the concessions stand and get us a few snacks! I’m not a hundred percent sure why Sylvain decided to come with, actually.”

Sylvain gasps in over-exaggerated hurt as he lifts a hand to his chest. “Have mercy, Mercie! You wound me! _ Ha_, get it? _ Mercy_. That was pretty good, in my opinion.”

“Shut the hell up, Sylvain,” Felix and Ingrid snap at the same time, and Sylvain bursts into laughter. Felix decides to blame the way his heart does a dozen cartwheels in his rib cage on the fact that he’s about to win—or lose—this tournament.

“I thought that was a good one,” Annette says with a giggle. “I’ve used it a million times, right, Mercie?”

“Yes, you have,” Mercedes says serenely.

Sylvain reaches over to give Annette a high five. “It’s so great to know someone here understands me.” Then his eyes settle on Felix again. “How’d your match go? I didn’t catch the tail end of it.”

Felix ignores the twinge of annoyance that washes over him when he realizes Sylvain watched the match he _ lost _ and then happened to not be there when he actually (hopefully) won. “Got him to yield,” he says simply, and Sylvain beams at him.

“Look at you go!” He exclaims, looking about two seconds away from wrapping him up in a hug. Felix warns him away with a look and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “You’ll definitely be winning gold at this rate.”

His words make Felix’s chest restrict in a way only Sylvain can manage to do. “We’ll see,” he mutters.

It’s a couple more minutes of meaningless banter and pure _ nerves _ that leads him up to the judges calling for the audience’s attention. “Will the contestants please stand in the arena,” a woman says into her microphone, voice blaring out over the speakers.

“You got this, Felix!” Ashe stage-whispers as Felix straps his head gear off and goes to stand next to Claude, who gives him a lopsided grin.

“We are pleased to announce this year’s winner of our annual fencing cup,” the lady continues, a smile in her voice. “Congratulations to Felix Hugo Fraldarius!”

“Dude!” Claude exclaims amidst clapping and the obnoxious, probably-against-the-rules cheering of a certain group of friends from a _ certain _ corner of the arena that Felix glares at to shut the hell up. Claude reaches out for a handshake and Felix grasps his hand tightly in his own. “Proud of you, man. Competing against you was fun.”

“I—thank you,” Felix manages to say, unable to stop the smile creeping onto his face as the same woman smiles at him and takes the gold and silver medals, looping it around their necks. He’s managed to win gold, second year in a row. All the training really did pay off, and his heart pounds in his ears as he steps off the mat and immediately gets tackled with hugs by both Ashe and Annette, who squeal and jump excitedly enough for Felix to suspect a bruised rib.

“Look at you!” Ashe exclaims. “_You!!! _ You’re the pride and joy of our fencing team!”

“I am so damn proud of you!” Annette adds on with a beam.

Felix laughs. “Thanks, you guys,” he murmurs.

Then he’s being hugged by Dimitri—“We’re all so proud of you,” he says with a grin—, and then Ingrid gives him a high five and a huge smile, and Mercedes wraps him up in a warm hug.

“Look at you go,” she says, sounding like a proud mother. “You’re just amazing!”

“Thanks, Mercedes,” Felix says, starting to feel embarrassed. Dedue ruffles his hair and Felix finds out his glare isn’t really all that effective when he’s grinning from ear-to-ear.

And then it’s Sylvain standing in front of him. He’s set his head gear and gloves somewhere off to the side, and he has a smile so wide Felix is surprised his face doesn't break on the spot. His eyes are warm as they search Felix’s face. “You really did it, huh?”

“You sound like you have no faith in me,” Felix hisses, but he doesn't stop Sylvain from stepping closer to him anyway.

He’s expecting a hug like everyone else. It’s why his heart attempts to leap straight out of his mouth when something in Sylvain’s normally mischievous expression flattens out into a certain kind of earnestness that manifests in the way Sylvain places a hand on Felix’s shoulder and then tilts his chin up with a finger. It’s so unfairly like the yielding move he’d pulled on Claude, holding the point of the sword underneath his opponent’s chin, that Felix blanks for a moment.

Time doesn't slow down. Felix doesn't feel everything in the background fade to white noise—in fact, he’s pretty sure the exact opposite happens. He hears Ashe’s gasp and the way Ingrid whispers something to Mercedes and he can _ feel _ everyone’s stares on them. But Sylvain still looks a little hesitant, and maybe Felix is feeling a little bold with a second gold medal around his neck. So he decides for Sylvain and lets himself curl his fingers into the nape of Sylvain’s neck to pull him down as their lips meet.

Sylvain makes a little surprised noise at the back of his throat, like he hadn’t actually been expecting Felix to do anything, and it makes him smirk into the kiss even as blood rushes through his ears, because this is his first time kissing anyone and of _ course _ the universe had to pull a few strings to make it the love of his life, or at least of the past few years. It’s soft and chaste, a mere brush of their lips that sends Felix reeling and his heart on fire as he pulls away in a daze. Sylvain blinks down at him.

“You—” he starts, seemingly dumbfounded, and it sends a rush of pride through Felix. “You… okay, yeah. You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

Felix blushes. “Well, fuck you for not doing it earlier,” he mutters.

Some people in the outskirts of his peripheral vision are staring, he knows. When he turns to glare at them until they inevitably look away, he catches sight of Claude, who grins and waves from where he stands next to Hilda and Lorenz, another competitor. When he looks back at his own group, they’re all staring at him too. “What?” He snaps.

It’s silent for a moment as they all gape, and then—“I would love to be the best man at your wedding,” Dimitri says in a rush, and Annette bursts out laughing at the comical looks on their faces.

“What the—what are you going on about?” Felix snaps, blushing furiously.

Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before his lips pull up into a grin. “Of course, Dimitri,” he says, flashing him a thumbs-up. “Who else would be our best man?”

Felix tries so hard not to punch him in the stomach that he’s surprised a vein in his forehead doesn't explode. “Oh,” he says viciously, “I am going to fucking kill _ all of you_—”

Dimitri has to stop talking here, flat-out sobbing already. His lone eye is producing enough tears for two, and he dabs at his face with a tissue, seemingly unable to continue while the crowd sits in easy silence.

Felix is trying so _ fucking _ hard not to do something drastic, like possibly murdering his long-time friend. He knows his face is red because of the way Dorothea smirks at him from the first row of chairs, and it really only serves to make his murderous intent increase.

When he glances at Sylvain, he catches the exasperated smile on his face and, well. It doesn't calm him down, but maybe it anchors him. Who cares if that means the same thing?

“All of us were waiting _ years _ for them to realize, you know,” Dimitri says with a laugh, and Felix considers throwing his glass at Ingrid when she nods vigorously next to him. “We thought they’d be high school sweethearts, and when they didn’t even acknowledge each other’s feelings for the other, we were pretty frustrated.”

“It was so damn obvious!” Ingrid adds on and everyone giggles. Felix not-so-discreetly stomps on her toes and she hides a yelp and a murderous glare behind a sip of her champagne.

Dimitri grins. “She’s right. And then, that night—” he sniffles again. “Something just clicked in their heads, when they kissed in front of us. They’re the perfect match for each other in their own imperfect way.” His smile is sweet when he looks back at felix, and then Sylvain. “Felix can be sharp-tongued—”

“That’s a damn understatement and you know it!” Someone yells from the crowd—it’s Hilda, sitting next to Claude, and Felix’s eye twitches as their guests laugh again.

Dimitri snickers for a moment before composing himself. “Perhaps that’s true,” he acquiesces mischievously. “But for all his sharp tongue and one-man attitude, he has a genuinely kind heart underneath. He just isn’t willing to show that sometimes. Well, most of the time, really.”

God, Felix is _ really _ going to murder Dimitri as soon as he can. “Get on with it,” he snaps, and Ingrid snorts as Dimitri rolls his eye.

“Sylvain on the other hand…. well. The point is, these two are painfully in love,” he says after dabbing at his eye again. Sylvain protests at the lack of praise good-naturedly, and Dimitri shakes his head. “I think today is just such a joyous, special day, and I’m so glad I’ve been able to grow up with them. I could’ve picked any one of their firsts to talk about—like when they made their promise to stay together until the very end as kids. I didn’t really think of it as much, then, but _ god_, it all makes sense now.”

Their guests laugh once again, and Felix grits his teeth in embarrassment. “When is he gonna shut the fuck up?” He grumbles to Ingrid.

She snorts. “This is top-tier comedy, Lix. For my sake, I hope he prepared a _ lot _ of material tonight.”

“Fucking—okay, you know what?” He hisses. “Fine. Ugly bitch.”

“Couldn’t hear you over the sound of Dimitri talking about that one time you guys fucked in the room next door during finals week sophomore year,” Ingrid replies calmly, and Felix blinks, dumbstruck at the suddenness of it, before his head snaps back the other way to look at Sylvain just as everyone bursts out into peals of laughter.

His husband—and _ damn_, that word sounds weird in his head—has as self-satisfied smirk on his face, which genuinely can’t mean anything good, and Felix just gives up. He gives up and buries his face in his hands and groans, doing his best to ignore the way Ingrid snickers.

“Okay, okay,” Dimitri says, once everyone calms down again. “While I’d love to continue, I’m afraid I’ll end up killing Felix.”

“I’ll end up killing _ you_, shithead,” Felix replies.

Dimitri’s smile is genuine. “Let’s toast to a happy marriage between Felix and Sylvain, and enjoy tonight to the fullest!”

Everyone cheers. Felix, of course, doesn't lift his glass.

“You have to admit, Dimitri’s speech was cute,” Sylvain says, slinging an arm around Felix’s shoulders as they dutifully make a beeline for the buffet. They get first picking anyway, but, well. Felix is hungry and also doesn't exactly want to be subject to public humiliation any longer than he’s already been. “I knew he’d be a good best man the second he said it after our tournament.”

“Maybe to you,” Felix says. “You have no shame, so I’m not surprised.”

Sylvain lifts a plate up and hands one to him, laughing. “You’re right. He could’ve talked about that one time we wanted to experiment—this was over the summer before your junior year, remember?—and we ended up having to use your—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sylvain!” Felix hisses, lifting up the ladle for their soup as a threat, and Sylvain lifts his hands in surrender.

“_Okay_, relax,” he placates. “No need for the soup ladle to come out!”

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters even as he moves on to grab some of the chicken. After he’s done, Sylvain follows him back to their spot at the long table, humming all the way and kissing Felix’s cheek before he sits down, and it sends a flutter of fondness through his chest.

After all, Felix _ is _ madly in love with him. Maybe his taste is complete shit (which is a total lie, Sylvain’s stupidly _ perfect _ and he still can’t really believe he gets to have him), but Sylvain’s his now, fully. He isn’t one for tradition, but he has to admit knowing they’re officially married now is… nice.

Fuck, he’s getting soft. He wrinkles his nose at Sylvain in response and starts digging into his food.

The reception hall is fancy, courtesy of Sylvain and Felix coming from money. There’s a small, unfurling ache in his chest that Felix has to stem down every time he remembers neither of their parents could make it—Rodrigue because he’s on a business trip, and Sylvain’s parents because they aren’t exactly _ inclined _ to accept the relationship. In Felix’s words, they’re assholes, but he’s hard-pressed to tell Sylvain that when he knows his husband is still struggling with it.

So they eat, and cut the cake, and then Sylvain drags him out onto the dance floor despite Felix’s half-hearted protests.

“You guys look amazing together,” Ashe says dreamily some hours later, the party still going strong. He has his fingers interlocked with Dedue’s, both of them holding glasses of champagne. “I’ve always wanted to go to a wedding! Did you two know this is my first time attending one?”

Felix raises an eyebrow, keeping an eye on Sylvain from where he’s talking to Claude and Petra near the table of desserts. “Wait, really?”

Ashe nods vigorously, slipping his hand out from Dedue’s to brush his hair away from his bright green eyes. “Yes! You and Sylvain just happened to be the first to get married, really.”

“I believe Claude and Hilda were the first to get married,” Dedue points out, and Ashe makes a noise of realization.

“Oh, you’re right, Dedue,” he says, “I forgot. But I couldn’t go to their wedding because I was studying abroad with Dimitri, right?”

“Indeed,” Dedue nods. “Those were a lonely six months.”

Ashe curls his lips into an apologetic frown, and Felix sighs. “Where’s Dimitri?” He asks, cutting in before Ashe and Dedue can start sapping on about each other. “I thought you three would be clinging to each other all night.”

“Last time I saw him he was talking to Marianne,” Ashe says, craning his neck to look. “Ah! There he is.” He points at Dimitri, who stands near the table Marianne had shared with Ignatz and Lysithea. Ashe turns back to Felix with a soft, yet forlorn smile on his face. “You know, Felix, I’ve always wanted to get married, but…”

“Right,” Felix nods understandingly, softening up. Dedue, Ashe and Dimitri have all been together for years now, but he knows… “I mean, do you really have to do it the traditional way, though?”

Dedue and Ashe both stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?” Dedue asks slowly.

Felix sighs. “You technically don’t have to have signed papers to have a wedding. At least, I think so… anyway, that isn’t the point. You three could throw a huge wedding, especially with Dimitri’s money, and go on a honeymoon trip wherever you’d like, and literally none of us would stop you.”

Before Ashe and Dedue can respond, Sylvain comes around, curling an arm around Felix’s waist. “What’s up?” He asks with a goofy little smile that tells Felix he’s definitely probably drunk. “What’s with the shocked faces?”

Ashe’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he manages to get himself together. “You’ve brought up a good point, Felix. We’ll—well, we’ll have to think about that.”

Dedue’s lips curl up into a semblance of a warm smile. “Indeed. That would be nice.”

“The hell were they talking about?” Sylvain asks once they’ve left to snag Dimitri, slurring a bit and leaning into Felix when he turns to face him. “Sounded like you said something real shocking.”

“Hm. Maybe.” Felix takes a hold of Sylvain’s hand. “I said they didn’t have to be legally married to have a wedding and do their own thing. I know it’s been eating Ashe and Dimitri alive specifically. They’ve always enjoyed this sort of tradition.”

“Huh.” Sylvain smiles down at him. “You’re so considerate, Felix.”

Felix scoffs. “Whatever. You’re fucking drunk, Sylvain.”

“I’ll sober up in a bit,” Sylvain says. “Gotta spend my wedding night with my husband, right?”

Felix feels his face going red and punches Sylvain’s arm in retaliation. “I’ll literally—I’ll divorce you right now if you don’t shut the hell up.”

"It hasn't even been a full twelve hours yet!" Sylvain’s laugh sends his nerves alight. His fingers tighten in Felix’s grip, and he leans down to press a soft little kiss to Felix’s forehead. Felix hates being a sap, but he can’t help but remember the first time he’d kissed Sylvain. The first time Sylvain had kissed him. All of their firsts, all the goods and the bads—like when they first fought at nineteen and twenty years old respectively—have shaped them into who they are now—Husbands. He pities the Felix of the future that will have dealt with Sylvain for years, but right now, he’s content.

“You ready to head out?” Sylvain asks, playing with his fingers, and Felix gives him a small, secret smile.

“Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a whim wednesday night and debated scrapping it, but i thought i'd just post it bc i'd be mad at myself if i didn't. i had another, much longer sylvix week fic in the works, but i'll probably just post it as a standalone.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading, and comments + kudos are always appreciated! as usual you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_fraldarius) so come chat!!


End file.
